Franklin Grabowski
Franklin 'Grabass' Grabowski is a chem dealer and an ex-raider currently residing in the slaver town of Salvation. Formerly a member of Big Monty's raider gang prior to his untimely demise in 2267, Grabass has since decided to leave his life of stealing and killing behind him. Nowadays, he just lounges around Salvation all day, doing odd jobs and selling the low-grade chems he brews (when he's not getting high on his own supply, that is), sleeping in his little one-room shack or getting drunk at the Flight 42, only to sleep off the inevitable hangover in a puddle of his own making. Nobody in Salvation likes Grabass, but he is tolerated because even Dinah has to admit that he is useful to have around should the town need to defend itself. Grabass likes to play himself as 'reformed' despite his chem-addicted, misanthropic ways, but it takes very little for him to admit that he misses being a raider. Biography Early Life Franklin Grabowski was born on a Halloween evening, October 31, 2224. He grew up in some small corner of the Mojave Wasteland, in a small farming community with the rest of his family; his father Carl and his mother, Frankie, as well as his half-dozen or so siblings, each of whom helped on the family farm. Growing up, Frank spent his early years watching his family and the rest of the members of his little community give in to raider demands without a fight. In time, the young man would eventually view his home with contempt over their collective lack of spine when it came to defending what little they had. He decided very early on that he didn't want to become a spineless coward like his parents and everybody else in the community. In 2236, when Frank was around twelve years old, the farming community was threatened by a raider gang once again, but this time he used the raid as his chance to run away from his home to avoid the future he had seen for himself had he remained; that he would become just like everybody else in his home. Over the next few years since he ran away from home, Frank survived on his own by taking the odd job here and there, doing what he could, whenever he could to earn at least enough caps for something to eat. He had even turned toward petty theft if honest or even semi-honest work was hard to come by for the young man. Briefly, in one of the many settlements he resided in, he joined up with a small gang of youths who were just like him, doing what they could just to get by. It was here when he met Ivy Moreno, who became the love of his life--or so he thought at the time--right after she punched him in the face. The small gang were something of a nuisance within the settlement, but despite that they were all getting by. Mostly they did so through scavenging, pick-pocketing some of the wealthier travelers and townsfolk, and even a little petty burglary of the settlement's merchants. Franklin even admired the stones it took for the gang to sell back what they stole for a few extra caps. With each week that passed in his time with the group, Franklin fell deeper and deeper in love with Ivy, even if he did punch him in the face every now and then. He had even grown to enjoy the punching, his hormone-driven mind reasoning that it was her way of telling him that she liked him back, but neither of them had worked up the courage to tell the other how they felt. Unfortunately, his time with the other youths was not to last, as he eventually began to see a pattern that was very familiar to him. He often saw his friends simply handing over what they earned to another gang of youths, and it did not take long before his contempt of such weakness got the better of him. He announced to the group that he would be leaving them behind for greener pastures, and he asked his beloved Ivy to join him, so that they might start a new life together. She refused, and then she told him that she actually liked girls. When Frank was older, he turned from odd jobs and petty thieving toward more lucrative work such as guarding caravans and working as a thug for hire. However, he still witnessed people giving in to raiders without so much as a fight. And it was at this point in time when Frank realized something about raiders: they always got what they wanted and they didn't need to break their backs all day or sneak around for scraps. More importantly: he realized that raiders didn't take shit from anyone. He wanted to be one of them. Personality Franklin Grabowski is the very definition of 'the friend that nobody likes'; he is worth keeping around because despite his addiction to chems he has his uses, especially in a fight. That said, Grabass is an unrepentant old bastard, who somehow manages to get away with pissing everyone off with his misanthropic ways. He spends his twilight years lounging around Salvation, selling the low-grade chems he brews--that is, when he is not getting high on his own supply--or getting drunk at the Flight 42, only to sleep off the inevitable hangover in a puddle of his own making. He is a rapist, a thief, a murderer, and an all-around scumbag, who shows no remorse for the things he has done in the past, nor would show remorse for the things he has yet to do. All appearances aside, Grabass is not an unintelligent man. He knows enough about chemistry to brew narcotics (albeit narcotics of poor quality) and he also knows enough about gunsmithing to be able to construct guns out of scrap and old parts. He also possesses a low kind of cunning which raiders tend to possess if they ever hoped to live as long as he has. His advanced age has not made him any less of a lecher, and has in fact afforded him something of a reputation for being a dirty old man. It has also been noted that he has a thing for women who are either unavailable or could kick his ass. He hates Dinah Li and thinks she is a 'crazy bitch,' but that doesn't stop him from wanting to sleep with her, even if he knows she would murder him at the first opportunity. He is also 'sorta in love' with the madwoman that is Red Coltrane, and would have pursued her if he did not fear getting broken in half by her much larger, younger brother, Joonyur, as the last time he tried such a thing he very almost did. He is a frequent visitor of some of Salvation's prostitutes, and he has been known to mistreat some of the women, but he has been warned to keep away from those currently working at the Flight 42. Appearance Grabass has lived a life full of violence, killing and raiding and it shows quite prominently on his face. He is a Caucasian man of moderate height and a slender, though still quite muscular (despite his heavy chem use...or perhaps because of it, considering the amount of Buffout he takes) build for a man in his early-to-mid sixties. Grabass has never been the most handsome of men, even when he was younger; his big Roman nose is crooked and his dark grey eyes are sunken in through chem use, and what teeth he has left in his mouth are rotted through. He keeps his balding head shaved, most of the time, and a thick beard covers some of the worst of the scars on his weathered face; the result of an unfortunate encounter involving a prostitute and a straight razor. Most notable, however, is the eyepatch he wears over his right eye. Grabass still wears the old motorcycle leathers and leather armor of his old raiding days, perhaps as a reminder of what he felt were better times. Equipment Compared to high tech mercenaries and heavily armed raiders, Grabass appeared to have drawn the short straw at least when it came to weaponry. He could have bartered, bought or stolen better equipment and weaponry with which he could better survive the hardships of Post-Nuclear America, or at the very least better his chances, but Grabass would have rather put his caps to better use paying for chems to take or the materials he needed to make chems of his own so that he could sell them. Or, more accurately, take most of them himself and then sell the rest. Despite that, Grabass has survived for many years with what he had and it is unlikely that was to change anytime soon. His main firearm is a homemade shotgun he had cobbled together from scrap metal and old gun parts. The weapon often appeared as though it would explode in Grabass' face any time he pulled the trigger, but none who saw it in action could say that they were not unimpressed with its use--if only due to surprise that it hadn't actually exploded in his face. Yet. In addition to the shotgun he had constructed, Grabass has pockets full of chems for his personal use: Jet, Psycho, Buffout and anything else he could scrounge together or brew himself. As it turns out, even his chems had their uses if Grabass were to get into a fight; Jet to increase his reaction speed (or so he believes, as his perception of time slows down), Psycho or Med-X to increase his tolerance to pain (mostly because he's too high to notice getting shot) and Buffout to increase his physical strength for when the fight gets a little more personal (with the unfortunate side effect of shrinkage in...other areas). But perhaps the most important asset in Grabass' possession was not a gun or a drug, but rather the ruthlessness and killer instinct that is inherent to any veteran raider. Quotes By About Category:Raiders Category:Ex-Raiders